


Fairer than Rubies

by Lunarium



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: Attempted Murder, F/F, First Meetings, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-18 21:56:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5944623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarium/pseuds/Lunarium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gareian longs for adventure outside the stifling comforts of her father's manor and escapes for a night strolling along the Solunee-over-the-Water, unaware of danger back home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fairer than Rubies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zdenka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zdenka/gifts).



> For Zdenka who requested Shaleän/canon wife and a story of how they first met. Hope you enjoy! :)
> 
> Many thanks to my beta reader, AmyFortuna!

Music carried over wide open streets like a stifling canopy, paper lanterns were aglow in vibrant hues of gold and amethyst and emerald; the cheers and laughter of those celebrating competed with the songs of minstrels and marching bands strolling up and down the pier. But all celebration had died in Gareian’s heart, and the sounds and sights barely penetrated through her thoughts to tantalize her senses. 

It was the same celebration year after year. Even without hearing the music she could predict what song the band was playing, and what they would play later in the evening and for the following day over breakfast as they prepared the cities for another day of the forsaken holiday. 

She could almost name the dishes served at the small food vendors without having to lean forward to take a good look at the court far below, or to sniff the aromas. She knew the names of all the guests of honor at her home by heart, for her father invited them each year. 

For a holiday that marked the change of seasons, celebrating the coming of spring with song and merriment, dancing and drinking, a time meant for frivolity and silliness, it was terribly formulaic and dull. It was impossible to believe there had been a time when she looked forward to Three Fools’ Night. Now the melting of snow meant the uncomfortable duty of staying out here, in a tight dress inappropriate for the still cool weather, hair pulled up and decorated with a ridiculous amount of jewelry to show off her family’s wealth but only managed to add strain against her neck. 

And tonight was only the first night. 

“Gareian! You must try this!” her father’s voice boomed over the band. 

It would be terribly rude to refuse to come when he called. Gareian sighed and left her place by the balcony, tearing her eyes away from the glittering ocean far beyond, and made her way to the many long tables laid out before her father’s manor where her sisters and father sat. The Admiral Khel-Avezher, who came from a line of barons in Anvernel, sat laughing wholeheartedly to the same anecdote repeated by one of the guests on every occasion. Her father was a large man and had skin a dark grey, and his cheeks were a rich plum shade due to all of his drinking. With his bald head and large ears sticking out like wings, his head appeared like a giant purple bat flapping madly in some drunken fit of mirth. 

“Gareian, dearest! You must try the pie!” 

It was useless to protest, not in front of guests, and especially when her father was not being malicious. He simply thought every one of his children enjoyed the celebrations he held for his city as much as he did. Gareian thanked her father politely and accepted the sticky-crusted small pie. It was mainly filo dough with not enough fig and date palm filling, and the few pistachios were stale, old, and hard on her tongue. She chewed patiently as Khel-Avezher bellowed with laughter at his guests’ jokes. Gift after gift was handed out to the retired admiral, the praises always on hand along with the drinks. 

Her eyes turned to her eldest sister Bonezho, who hid her grimace with a polite smile at the Ethuveraz ambassador, Emperor Varenechibel’s Witness of Foreigners, presenting her with another letter and gift from the Archduke Nazhira Drazhar. Although they had never met, the second son of the emperor had taken a liking to her, proclaiming he had heard much of her beauty and fair voice, and wrote to her regularly, hoping she would become his wife. To Gareian’s surprise, he did not change his mind even after an engraving of the admiral’s eldest had been sent. He must have truly enjoyed her sort of beauty. 

They had already signed the marriage papers, were already considered wed, and Nazhira was said to be making his way to their manor later tonight.

“Hope he’ll make it before all the wine is done!” Khel-Avezher said, laughing heartily. “Please! Keep an eye out for him, and bring him to me immediately! An elven son! Imagine that! _Ha!_ ” 

When her duty of eating the pie was mercifully over, Gareian thanked the baker and gracefully curtsied to her father, her sisters, and his guests before leaving. 

“Such a sweet child, this one! Always so polite! She’s such a little darling! All of my children are, Ashevezhko bless them all! Why, like little Darsu over there! How do you like the party, Darsu?”

“I like it,” came the tiny, shy reply. 

On went her father's praise. 

She almost wanted to scream, just to see his smile falter. Since their mother’s death he had tried to supply a life as normal as possible, filled with comfort and luxury for his daughters. He feared losing them, and so they were fed only meals consulted by culinary experts that he believed to be beneficial to their growth, and all toys and games were examined for any harm before being cleared for their use. He did not mean to stifle their lives, or keep them so sheltered that their very bones grew soft for lack of use, and none had the heart to tell him the truth. 

Inside the noise of the celebration were mercifully muffled if only a fraction, falling more silent with each set of stairs she climbed. At the very top, where she could almost fool herself into thinking she was completely alone in the city, Gareian found a window that gave her a clear view of the port several miles off, and peered out in yearning. The Solunee-over-the-Water always fascinated her, its winding roads lost into the ocean woven with tales of pirates and adventures hidden away from the eyes of barons and nobles. Often she had dreamt of becoming one of them, an adventurer, a mere sailor or trader hearing the daily stories, seeing them, or—dare she wish it?—living it. 

Slipping into her room, she removed her dress, gasping out her relief as she undid her corset; and pulled off the larger jewelry from her fingers, around her neck, ears, and in her hair, keeping only the traditional beads her people wore in their braids. The clothes and coat she threw on herself now were drab and grey, perfect for blending into the port, though she could do little to hide her eyes. Their mother was unusual in that the color of her eyes were like vibrant tones of emeralds, a trait all of her children had inherited, very unlike the typical orange of goblin eyes. 

It just often meant Gareian had to travel through dark alleys to avoid being recognized by any official, but it was fair for the payoff, the taste of freedom she would be granted.

*

Sneaking out unseen had become an art mastered over the years, thus Gareian escaped to the Solunee-over-the-Water while her father still sat with his guests, blissfully lost in his sybaritic lifestyle. The path down to the the courtyards and the main roads meant go through a confusion of loud, brass crashes of drums and trumpets and people screaming, merry faces as plum as Khel-Avezher. Gareian was not used to the noise and so quickened her pace to get out of the area as soon as she could, lest she ended up on the street passed out with someone recognizing her identity.

Once she took the first step into Solunee-over-the-Water, she breathed a sigh of relief. 

Out here with the night sky wide open to her, and the stars shining, she felt she could breathe fully at last, unburdened by corsets and rules and overbearing, though well-meaning, fathers. Here was her opportunity to find herself, a chance to simply _be._ The touch of the night breeze was like a lover’s kiss against her lips, holding the promise of mystery and adventure with every shiver. The flickering of candlelight drew her eyes to curtainless windows; she marveled at what activities took place inside each building, both the mundane and the unusual. Scents of foods far more appetizing than back at home brought her back to days when her mother was still alive, recalling seasoned minced fish, savory soups, and date palm pie that was perfect in look and taste. 

A carefree smile danced on her face as she relived the past, not caring if she was straying further from the celebrations and into a region of the port where virtually no one else was around. Ships stood docked on the pier, and long stacks of crates were mainly what she could see, but it was quiet here, peaceful. She could sit right at the edge and watch the stars for the rest of the night, unbothered, finally able to hear herself thinking again for the first time that night. 

“How much for the ruby, sweetheart?” 

Frozen for a moment, she tried not to panic at the realization that there was company around here, and from the harsh tone, it was not a sort she wished to be around. She willed her hand not to fly up to her hair to verify that, yes, indeed she had forgotten to remove one jewel, the light of the full moon catching the gleam of the red among the black of her hair. It was light enough that she had missed it.

Gareian considered her options. She could ignore the man, or have her fun. It certainly would not be the first time she had toed the line, daring fate and savoring danger. 

“’Twas our poor late mama’s heirloom, and her only gift to us, and it is worth more than all this city, love,” she replied in the best imitation of the locals’ accent she could muster. She felt inside the pocket of her coat, felt the sharp tip of the small knife she carried with her if she faced danger, then slipped her hand back out. Then wrapping her coat about herself, she made to leave. 

“She must have been a rich woman, for Solunee-over-the-Water is great with many riches, but nothing like this beauty,” the man said and stood, followed by his men. “We thinks she must have been a noble.” 

She tried slipping past the men, but they closed off whatever space was between them, forcing her to double back. She kept her smile and dodged, trying for another escape route, only for the path to get blocked. 

Soon they had her cornered among tall stacks of wooden crates, hiding her from view of anyone who happened to pass by. She kept an amused smile as if enjoying their game, as if eager for a brawl with four men twice her size with drawn daggers, but her heart hammered and she prayed none could hear it. Her own knife would be little help against them, though she had trained herself in street fighting to prepare herself for any quarrels, for they were frequent on the shores of the Chadevan Sea. 

One of the men seized her collar with one hand, the other on her shoulder, and she reached for the hilt of her knife. 

She was too puny compared to the large strong hand grabbing her shoulder. She wondered if the cries of a woman distressed could stir compassion in any of the locals. Perhaps this was a nightly occurrence. 

_The knife is small, but if it aimed for the eye…_ Gareian pressed her eyes shut, curling her shaking fingers around the hilt. 

“Gentlemen! Harassing a lady for the only present her mother could give? For shame!” 

The laughter was deep and carried over them like a great tidal wave. In a blink of an eye Gareian saw each of her would-be muggers disappear from her line of sight, pulled up beyond the crates, their cries lost in the music, the thumps of their bodies hitting the ground in tune with the stomping of the drums in the distance. 

It had happened so fast she still had her hand on her knife as the last of the muggers were thrown down. She could hear groans on the other side of the crates before suddenly more sounds accompanied them. Her savior wasn’t working alone, and there was laughter, some she thought belonging to women’s voices. 

Someone yelled out a curse, and there was a shuffling of feet as her muggers ran off. Her rescuers laughed and cheered. There was a jingling of metal, and she guessed the muggers were stripped of their possessions instead. 

_Serves them right._

“All right there, love?” the man appeared again on the crates, encircled with a few more from his crew. Gareian’s savior threw himself down from the crates, and upon closer inspection, she realized she was not looking at a man at all. A woman stood before her, tall and strong of build. Under a wide red hat were thick wild curls running down her back like a mane belonging to a fearsome beast. 

_A pirate_ , Gareian thought, taking in the attire and the memory of what she had read of the infamous vagabonds in a book. The tales were well known here, and the women before her…Gareian felt she must know the name. 

She was handsome, her eyes a vivid orange, her wicked grin so mad and enchanting that it rooted Gareian to the spot as the woman reached out past her ears, perhaps to check for any signs of injury left by the men. Gareian melted into the touch, but it was over too soon, and before Gareian knew it, the pirate had turned her back and was making off with the ruby in her hand. 

“We will have that, if you do not mind.” 

“Not as noble as the men you have fought, we see!” 

“If this indeed be a gift from your mother, you would have tucked it safer away before you came by this shore.” The pirate laughed. 

Gareian felt blood rush to her cheeks, though the pirate would not see her blush. “Clever thinking! And to whom do we owe our gratitude?” 

The pirate’s eyes widened, momentarily taken aback. She studied Gareian for a moment before splitting into another round of laughter. “You truly are not from these lands, or have not been out for much! As Shaleän Chadevan I am known in lands and seas far and wide!” 

It was Gareian’s turn to be taken aback. “Our father has spoken of you! You are trouble wherever you go!” 

“Indeed so!” Shaleän laughed. “And trouble is where we go now, though we are not the cause of it!” 

“Pardon?” 

“To the Lord Admiral Khel-Avezher’s house our crew and we are headed,” Shaleän continued, smirking to herself, “for a son of the Emperor Varenechibel is said to be sailing to the land, for some sort of wedding, we presume? He or the ambassador who went before him has brought poison to do away with Khel-Avezher, so that the archduke could marry the late admiral’s daughter and give all the trade to his father. Our sources tell us his ship was spotted near the dock reserved for nobles a few miles off. If we do not meet him there, we will have to be ready for him in the admiral’s manor.” 

“Ambassador…” Gareian said slowly, her throat having gone thick, and suddenly felt dazed. 

Shaleän was watching her closely, one eyebrow quirked. “You seem rather shaken by the news.”

“Lord Admiral Khel-Avezher is my father,” Gareian said. “My name is Gareian. My sister Bonezho…she had written the papers with the Archduke Nazhira! The book signing was just this morning, and the ambassador had been there earlier this evening to say the archduke was on his way!”

“The archduke will get there, introduce himself, kiss his bride. Then once the admiral is dead, he will seize the household, his late father-in-law’s business, and all of the trade and this land’s goods for his father!” 

Shaleän threw out her arms though there was no humor in her actions. Gareian felt sick.

“Why did you come here, so far from home and so poorly dressed?” 

“We…escape out of our home on occasion for a bit of fresh air. We find it stifling inside our home and desire the open skies and seas.” Her ears rested flat against her head. She had escaped her home for a bit of adventure. She never wanted any of this. 

“Adventure,” Shaleän repeated, nodding her head in understanding. “Well, we are normally not one for saving our own enemies, but in this particular case we feel it most appropriate to make an exception. Unless you have any objections.” Shaleän smirked. 

Gareian’s face burned hotter. “Of course we have no objections! Are you mad? We came here seeking a temporary freedom! We do not wish to see our father dead!” 

“Understandable, and we will ensure that your father does not die. If there be one thing we utterly abhor, it is to see a thief get away. That is _our_ job!” 

She gave a great ululated cry, which was then answered by members of her crew, and they were off.

*

Archduke Nazhira, with a small following of guards, reached the manor just as Gareian settled back, slipping into a corner at the table as inconspicuously as she could. The archduke was young, having just reached his majority, and he was handsome and very charismatic. He freely welcomed a confused Bonezho into his arms and then embraced Khel-Avezher before patting Darsu on her head who was all too eager to go back to her tenth helping of pie.

To Khel-Avezher Nazhira presented a bottle of the finest wine with the Emperor’s blessing.

“But it seems you have drunk so much already!” he said, his laughter ringing melodically with the music. “We would not wish for you to fall ill with another drink!” 

“Nonsense!” Khel-Avezher laughed and reached for the bottle. “The night is still young!” 

In that moment Shaleän swept in like a hawk, crashing onto the table, and kicked the bottle out of Nazhira’s hand, sending it hurling in the air. In that same instance, the guards drew their swords and faced the curved swords of the pirates before the guards of Khel-Avezher could react; and the Ethuveraz maza began an incantation, but was suddenly frozen on the spot as a counter-spell was cast by a mazo, one of Shaleän’s crew. Shaleän caught the bottle before it crashed onto the ground and threw it against a small decorated palm tree where it withered and greyed instantly before everyone’s eyes. 

Darsu keened and began crying, just as another pirate—a witch of the Evressai Steppes, Gareian realized from the flash of sharp pointed canine teeth—came behind her and cast a protective spell around the sisters and hushed the youngest to remain calm. The plum hue of Khel-Avezher’s cheeks faded and the pupils of his eyes contracted into tiny dots that Gareian associated with the rare times he was ever angered. Bonezho’s eyes widened but said nothing, her eyes unable to leave Nazhira.

With the guards surrounded and the maza’s spells trapped, Nazhira was left completely vulnerable. Several of the guards cried out for their archduke, undoubtedly fearing his end was near. 

A dwarf, perhaps Shaleän’s first mate, tied Nazhira’s hands behind his back, and forced his head to look up at Shaleän as she regarded him coldly. She brought her sword against his throat, and for a moment Gareian wondered if Shaleän would commit murder right there before her father’s manor and before the admiral herself. It would be a declaration of war, and the consequences could be grave for both herself and Khel-Avezher.

But instead Shaleän spoke. “Tell the company you keep that we have many ears and knew your schemes since before you left the shores of your empire. And do tell your dear father he will never have trade with the Chadevan Sea, _especially_ not by means of murdering the Lord Admiral. I may not like him myself, but I will not have him dead by the hands of the emperor.”

Unable to resist herself, Gareian, wearing an admirable smile, leaned forward and placed her head on her hands, watching Shaleän speak. 

“We understand the emperor has lost his wife, your mother, and we extend our condolences, reluctant as we are to give it at this time, but we do not think taking power over these lands the sea will bring her back. Tonight we will be merciful and return you to your father. But should we see your pallid face here again, it _will_ be thrown back into the water, and the body left for the vultures!

“Zhidelka, if you would be so kind.” 

The goblin pirate bowed to her. Soon, Archduke Nazhira, the Witness of Foreigners, and the archduke’s guards were all shown down the grand stairs and back to the boat by both pirates and Khel-Avezher’s guards. Silence followed with each step as more of the merrymakers beheld the strange sight and the news spread, until an uncomfortable silence was all that rang in the night. 

No one spoke for the longest time at the table until finally Khel-Avezher and Shaleän turned and looked into one another’s eyes. 

“You.” Khel-Avezher said roughly. “Get inside.”

*

Gareian had feared a fight would start between the old enemies of the famed pirate and the retired admiral, but she instead found herself in her father’s office standing witness to a very grateful Khel-Avezher thanking Shaleän Chadevan. He could not stop fretting what could have happened to Bonezho or Gareian or Darsu if he had died.

“But why?” he finally asked. “Why bother saving old batty us when we had been close to killing one another before?” 

Shaleän, who had been standing erect with her arms folded, simply shrugged. 

Khel-Avezher laughed, all confusion and previous hate towards the pirates gone forevermore. “We are saying _why!_ How absurd! We are thankful for your deeds, of course! Merely we are surprised. Again we ask, why bother saving us?" 

“Because the sea is ours, and we wish not for the emperor to get his hands on it,” Shaleän said plainly. “Your involvement we can tolerate.” 

Gareian wondered if that would be enough to enrage her father, but he simply guffawed. 

“So very like your father you are!” 

Sudden something changed in Shaleän’s eyes and her face hardened. “I have no father, unless you mean the Chadevan sea is a man, for I am a daughter of the sea only.” 

The smile faded from Khel-Avezher’s face, but he nodded his head once politely. “We would like to offer you a proposal, if you would be so willing, to work with us instead of against us? We see you are not the mere scoundrel we had mistaken you as, and we can work in agreement, toward something that can…mutually benefit one another.” 

“Lord Admiral, do you ask us to become your privateer?”

“Well, yes.” 

Shaleän smiled. “Kind offer, but we must decline. Our life is that of the pirate. We answer to no one but ourself.” 

“Then _why_?” 

“Pirates are not without their morals, Lord Admiral.” 

“But surely you cannot leave without a reward of some kind. You _are_ pirate!” 

Shaleän pulled out an object from her pocket, studying it as the lamplight reflected red. She glanced up at Gareian with a smile.

“Our desire is for one fairer than rubies.”

*

Gareian looked up and smiled, seeing from her window the _Glorious Dragon_ dock at the pier. The seasoned minced fish were just done, and she knew Shaleän would welcome the treat after returning home from her travel. She stacked the fish with some of the fig and date palm pie and some soup into a steel lunch canteen, wrapped it up, and left.

Some of the other crew members could be seen on the deck laughing as they went about their business. About more than half were women, and they were an odd assortment: goblins, elves, lion-girls, dwarves, Evressai barbarians—anyone who wished for a different life outside the constraints of their society, or some, like Gareian, wishing for a bit of adventure out at sea. 

As she ascended the gangway, Vetero the mazo and Csezhu, her witch friend from the Evressai Steppes, were making their way from the opposite direction and smiled at her. 

“The captain is in her quarters,” Vetero notified Gareian and returned to her conversation with Csezhu. She thanked them and made for the captain’s cabin, where Shaleän sat hunched over her ornate desk, so engrossed in a letter that she didn’t hear Gareian enter. 

“Damn you, father, witless oaf that you are!” she snarled and pounded her fist on the desk. That was when she noticed Gareian by the door, and her face softened. 

“Do forgive me,” she said in a softer voice and stood up, extending out one arm. Gareian set the lunch box on the table and allowed herself to curl into her wife’s embrace, seeking warm lips whose kisses spoke of the sweet agony of their days spent apart since their last meeting. Behind Shaleän’s shoulder Gareian caught glimpse of the captain’s bed and her memories returned to her of spending her wedding night out at sea with her beloved. 

She pulled herself away from Shaleän’s arms reluctantly. 

“What hast troubled thee, love?” 

With a heavy sigh, Shaleän motioned to the letter. “After foiling the elven emperor’s chances of getting his hands on the trade of the Chadevan Sea, he has found another means to it: by my father.” 

Shaleän seldom spoke of her father, and Gareian was careful not to mention the Great Avar in the presence of her wife. She never told Gareian the story of what pushed her to escape her home many years ago, disguised as a boy and escaping to the seas, and Gareian would wait for the story, if Shaleän ever wished to share it. But she knew Shaleän kept in contact with Thever, the older of the two legitimate daughters of the Avar. 

“How can we stop the emperor this time?” Gareian asked. 

“We cannot, and with Nazhira near her, I would not trust endangering the life of my sister Chenelo,” Shaleän said. “She knows nothing of my existence; Thever doesn’t quite know how to tell her of our existence, see, but we know her, all four of her other sisters. And our foolish father had married off Chenelo to Emperor Varenechibel, so his daughter may be _empress_ , and so now the Emperor can have trade to the seas! It was set up by the Witness of Foreigners, undoubtedly.” 

With a snort, Shaleän began pacing her cabin, deep in thought. It was not a sight Gareian was used to, seeing Shaleän looking so defeated, and her heart sank. 

“Is there nothing we can do?” she asked. 

“It was going to happen sooner or later,” Shaleän finally said. “Such are the tides of time. Still, it does not please me to know my sister resides among the men I threatened but two years ago, but she is safe so long as no one knows she is my sister. 

“There is just one thing I can do to make it up to poor Chenelo.”

She retreated to a shelf on the wall of the cabin, where there sat a lacquered box. Gareian peered over her shoulder, recognizing the wedding gift Khel-Avezher had commissioned for their wedding. So grateful was he over Shaleän’s deeds that Gareian’s desire to marry Shaleän had been met with enthused excitement and celebration, though thankfully it had not lasted three nights. Although Shaleän was still the captain of the _Glorious Dragon_ , Gareian had heard news of her father calling himself the king of the Chadevan pirates, which rather amused her. 

She smiled as Shaleän unhooked the catch, remembering the first time the beautifully-crafted ivory combs and tashin sticks were placed in her hair to be part of her wedding gown. She did not fail to notice the rubies included in the set. 

“If thou doest not mind, of course,” Shaleän said with affection. 

“I do not mind in the least bit,” Gareian said, wrapping her arms around Shaleän’s waist. “Will this be for Chenelo?”

“Either her or the child she has conceived,” Shaleän said. “I will send this to Thever for safe-keeping. Some time, whenever she feels it it is most opportune, she will deliver our gift to Chenelo and her child.”

**Author's Note:**

> Although virtually no one here ever appeared in the book (besides Zhidelka), but many were names mentioned in passing in the book. 
> 
> I rationalized the existence of dwarves by the assumption that Dachensol Habrobar is one.


End file.
